


The Other Side of the World

by FireEye



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 16:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16391213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: Some were never wanted in the first place.





	The Other Side of the World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anaraine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/gifts).



He’s not supposed to be here, but he was ever the adventurous one.

Tall and gangly for his age, he makes his way in through the cellars, through the one Door that can’t be guarded.  The resident hob-goblins are raiding the pantry while the humans sleep; they wave in greeting and he flashes them a friendly smile.

Climbing the stairs from the rootcellar, he makes his way up into the rafters, and finally onto the roof.

The stars are so bright.  They _move_ , in circles and cycles, like firebugs adrift on the water’s surface.  The biting chill of impending winter dances with bare branches and fallen leaves.

This isn’t the first time he’s slipped the veil.  The Queen will be livid if he’s caught, but it’s worth the risk; to the burgeoning curiosity of youth, this otherworld is an endlessly fascinating place.

The trick, then, is to not get caught.

By either side.

A tiny, helpless cry drifts on the wind to where he lies relaxed, and he pulls himself up.  The gate slams, falling ajar behind a figure garbed in gray.  But the only sound there is uneven footsteps, whereas the cry echoes in the cold air among the carved stones.

There’s a child, there.  Cold, angry, _frightened_.

The world he was born to can be harsh, in its own fashion.  Even so, this isn’t where an infant belongs – bereft of warmth and nourishment.  Even _he_ knows this.  _Knows_ it.

He wraps the child in a blanket of silence, and follows the footsteps of the one who seems to have forgotten him, through the gate, along the road.  She pauses, once, when the child stops crying, as though maybe she’s remembered; but, flinching, she merely hurries along faster.

The world of Man is not unlike his own.  It is less civilized, there is less magic, but there is a familiarity in they way Men live.  He follows her through the fields, and the battlements, and the clustered houses, to the heart of the fortress.  There, he waits in shadow until the young mother sleeps, then steps lightly through the room and puts the babe back where he belongs.

Having accomplished this task, he slips out again.  Moving through the streets, beneath the notice of the night watch, without casting so much as a shadow.

There is a commotion behind him.  The baby is howling in fear and pain, and when he turns back, he sees her.  Nightgown torn and streaming behind her, rushing towards the town well.

He rushes, too – throwing himself at the last second to catch the baby being dropped into the dark depths.  He doesn’t understand, as he cradles the child; looking to the distraught girl for an answer, he loses himself in her somber eyes.

They stare at one another, neither comprehending what it is that they see.

The human girl screams.

He panics.

In a breath, it seems, there are Men everywhere.  The portcullis at the gate falls, and he’s driven back.  He can avoid the guards on the ground, but the archer on the battlements he only sees a split second too late.

Cold iron pierces his heart.  Shielding the child with the last of his strength, he plummets.  Down the well.  Through space, through time.

Between worlds.

_There is a Door..._

***

The Queen’s Court falls silent.  The terrified cries of a child not of this world echo from the gilded walls and vaulted ceiling as she strides forward through the assembly.  Her eyes are on her own child’s lifeless shell as the hob-goblins stammer their story and their condolences.

“Give me the child,” she tells them, and they offer her the alien creature her son gave his life to save.  Her gaze falls to the screaming baby in her arms; the hoarse wailing dwindles to broken gurgling.

“If the Kingdom of Men no longer value their children, so be it.  Bring them to me; I shall find use for them.”

Of what to do with the baby, there is little question in her mind.

“Hush,” she tells him, and a deep sleep overcomes him.  He fights it, as all young children do.  “I shall build a kingdom of stone.  I shall make it yours; no harm shall befall you there.  Hush.”

The Queen has lost a son; the Queen has gained a son.

A child born to live a thousand years has died; and a child never meant to survive a harsh, cold autumn grows up alone in a timeless world of living stone.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently, there is a comic book origin now? I did not know this... at least, not before this plot had already bitten me and refused to let go.
> 
> I still hope you enjoyed this meandering bit of thought. :)


End file.
